Three Stories That Show How I am a Retard, a Jerk and I Smell Funny

I woke up this morning a bit before my alarm went off. Nikki had swiped a lot of the covers, as usual, so I swiped some back and pulled my head under the covers to drown out the obnoxiousness of the television which Nik leaves on to avoid having to listen to our myriad electronic devices emit that odd electrical bleeping that I usually associate with cell phone signals passing through non-cell devices. She says it reminds her of alien invasions and gives her nightmares, so she leaves the TV on to combat it.

But as I relaxed there under the covers, a sudden but pungent stench hit me and I scrambled for the relief of fresh air outside the confines of the blanket mass. At first I assumed it was simply morning breath gone horribly awry. It happens to the best of us. I drifted back off and woke up to the alarm blaring some idiotic morning show drivel. I crawled out of bed and slapped the snooze alarm across the room, stumbling back toward the bed in a cycle of futility. But on the way I caught a whiff of something; it was familiar, but I still couldn’t place it.

Eventually I got all the way up and stumbled into the bathroom. As I stood there waiting for the water to heat up I did some investigation and determined that the source of the smell was definitely me and what was weirder was that the more I thought about it the more I thought that it was very, very reminiscent of the Toffee Nut Latte.

In the shower I scrubbed my armpits, hands, face and neck vigorously, trying to rid the most likely sources of unwanted odors. When I stepped out of the shower I thought I had finally managed to fix the problem. But several minutes later I was eating my cereal when I caught a whiff of it again. Nutty, but not sweet, it was dry and while it couldn’t be classified as an offensive smell (not like I had bad gas or something) it wasn’t exactly the sort of musty stench I wanted wafting around me all day.

Deodorant and a light spritz of body spray should have done it, but later while I sat in the car singing along to the radio and ignoring the bemused stares of the other commuters I smelled it again. I still don’t know where it came from and it seems to emanate from me in semi-regular intervals, like I’m some sort of funky-smelling human Glade Plug-In with a gnarly Heath bar-like fragrance.

Stupid Starbucks.

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